The Smoke Between His Lips
by xLazyxWriterx
Summary: [Hipster!Nathan/Punk!Warren] With a flick of his thumb, an orange warmth was cast across his face for a moment as the cigarette lit. Tucking the lighter into his back pocket, he inhaled deeply, eyes closed and features content. He held his breath to savor the feeling in his lungs. Leaning towards the window, he blew the smoke out slowly, carefully. It twisted and faded beautifully.


**Hey there, Strangers! Here's a fic based on the new AU on Tumblr about Hipster!Nathan and Punk!Warren. This AU is giving me life and I'm glad that it's finally seeing some love. I haven't seen any fics about it yet so here I am! Because, c'mon, of course I'm going to write a fic about this AU! :) I don't know if this is going to become a multiple chapter fic or not. I think it'll depend on if people like it or review it or not.  
**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **The Smoke Between His Lips  
**

 **by**

 **xLazyxWriterx**

* * *

He drifted into consciousness. And then back out. A constant pattern. The world was blurred. Random splotches of colors seemed to float aimlessly around in the darkness of his room to create a seemingly beautiful contrast. He watched the colors blend and mingle in silence, only blinking every so often. Needles pricked at his leg. At least the limb seemed to of gotten some sleep, unlike him. His heavy lids drooped as the yawn he had been holding back finally broke free. He swallowed the excess saliva in his mouth, frowning at the bitter taste.

The silence was broken by the perky ring and vibration of his phone. As soon as the jingle sounded, a heavy wave of exhaustion washed over him. He felt pinned to the bed. He lifted his head only to drop it back against his pillow. He tried to rub the dreariness from his eyes, but that only made more colors appear within his sight.

He counted to three in his head. Twice. A third time.

He had to get up.

One... Two... Three...

He didn't move.

Was it just him, or was his bed suddenly the most comfortable piece of heavenly cloud that man had ever laid upon?

With a low grunt, Nathan Prescott pushed his fatigued body up from the comfort of his mattress. Slouched over in a sitting position, he detangled his legs from the heavy comforter and cringed at the cool air of his room. Even though thick curtains covered his windows, a white light still managed to peek through the sides.

Nathan had to ease himself off the bed carefully to prevent himself from getting lightheaded. On clumsy feet, he walked over to pull the curtains apart. That was a mistake.

Outside was white and cold, extremely bright. The light brought the life back into his room, but he couldn't say the same thing about himself. If anything, seeing the five inches of fluffy snow made him want to curl up under him comforter and hibernate until spring. Oh, how cozy it would feel to lay on his side and bring her knees up to his chest and just _relax_ for the next few months. Who needs food and water, honestly? Or human contact for that matter? He could dream of lovely things and wake up energized and ready for warm weather.

Unfortunately, that was unrealistic thinking. Nathan rolled his eyes at his own stupid thoughts and moved away from the blinding window. The alarm on his phone was still screaming at him. The device lay right next to his glasses and the new white pill bottle on his nightstand. Slipping his glasses on, he turned his phone on. The screen read 8:00 with the header reminding him to not forget to take an Ativan. He clicked the _dismiss_ button. He snatched the bottle and twisted the lid off, shaking a pill onto his palm. He swallowed it dry.

God, he was tired.

Damn Chemistry.

He had a test today. A huge test, and he wasn't ready for it. Not even a little bit. Which is why he spent last night cramming any sort of info he could into his brain before passing out at around 6:00 in the morning. He didn't even fall into a peaceful slumber, either. It was a light sleep that he drifted in and out of throughout the few hours that he lay in bed. How did he expect himself to sleep when all he could think about how he could not get anything besides an A on this test...?

He had to get an A on this test. Especially after what happened last time...

Stretching himself out to loosen up the stiffness of his muscles, Nathan could feel his stomach twisting and tightening.

He had tried his hardest, but damn, Chemistry was hard. He had set aside his evening to prepare for the impending test and planned to be in bed at a decent hour. He had made himself a large cup of hot Kava Tea to sip on to calm his nerves and dressed comfortable and warm in his pajamas. He even cleaned off his desk to make room for his textbook and papers.

The first problem on the one-hundred question study guide had been simple, and the few after that weren't terrible. He would even go as far as to say that he was starting to begin to feel confident when he answered number five with such ease. He was actually beginning to think that maybe he wasn't hopeless.

The usefulness of his thoughts and his confidence had evaporated sometime after problem six. Everything went downhill from there.

Nathan was left pulling at his hair and gritting his teeth. He even threw his textbook at the wall, then he picked it up and apologized to it, like the book's feelings were actually hurt or something. By the time he had calmed himself down, his tea was cold and his paper was wrinkled from his fingers gripping the pages too tightly. He skipped questions that were too hard and did all the easier ones of each section. He tried getting up and walking around his room while reading the questions out loud. He was surprised that his pacing back and forth hadn't created a groove in the carpet.

He had thought about calling Max, but then remembered that it was nearly 2:00 in the morning.

Oh, and that Max was worse at Chemistry than he was.

Eventually, Nathan gave up. He kept imagining the worse case scenario where he flunked the test and Ms. Grant called his father to tell him what failure his son was. Well, Ms. Grant wouldn't outright say it like that, but that's what his father would hear. Then, Nathan would have to go home for the weekend.

He didn't want to go home for the weekend.

Nathan didn't finish the study guide, but he was close. He had about twenty questions left unanswered, plus the essay question. The stack of wrinkled papers still lay on his desk, taunting, mocking him.

Pushing his glasses up to fit more snug on his nose, he opened his door and peeked out. The hallway was quiet, not a soul in sight. Excellent. Quickly, Nathan gathered the clothes that he set aside the day before and grabbed his contact case and solution.

He made sure door clicked shut before wandering down the hall to the showers. Only one other shower was going when he entered, but the air was already moist and warm. Hopping into a free shower on the far end, he made sure his things were put in a dry place before stripping. He folded his glasses up and put them on top of the neat pile.

The water was heavenly. Hot and comforting.

He went over vocab and formulas in his head while he shampooed his oily hair. He tried to remember every lecture Ms. Grant had given for this chapter, but then his mind would wander and he'd only become annoyed with himself. He knew his constant worrying about it wouldn't help him in the long run, but that didn't stop his brain from pondering on questions like, "What's the best way to hide a terrible grade from my father?" and "What are the chances of me getting caught if I sneak in to change my grade?"

Ugh.

He rinsed his hair lathered his body up with unscented soap. He took a moment to massaged the muscle along his shoulder. It always ached whenever he spent too much time fretting over a problem.

Once the steamy water washed away the bubbly soap, the shower was turned off and Nathan was drying himself with his towel. From the sound of it, he was now the only person in the showers. Still, he wasn't sure about stepping out just yet. Instead, he dried himself the best he could before slipping on his underwear and jeans, pushing his belt through the loops to ensure they stayed on. Water dripped from his hair and down his back. He pulled on his dark blue undershirt, feeling the material stick to his skin.

Nathan pulled back the curtain to the shower. The entire room was a blur. That was fixed when he put his glasses back on. Oh, how he could see clearly now that the rain was gone. Or something. The mirrors were fogged over and moisture was clinging to the faucets of the sinks.

It was still empty. That was a nice change. Usually by now Logan and his goons would be barging in and he'd still be cooped up in the stall until they were all either in the showers or gone. He once had to take two showers in a row just so that one of those idiots didn't come barging in on him. What a waste of water.

He gathered his things and headed to one of the sinks. He left his dirty clothes piled on the floor and set his contacts and solution on the sink. He slipped on his white, collared button-down on, straightening it out before buttoning up the first four buttons.

A whooping laugh from outside made Nathan jump, turning to look at the door with wide eyes. He pushed his hair back as he waited to see if someone was coming.

Luckily, the laughter faded down the hall and Nathan could breathe easily.

Of course, while he was lucky there, he wasn't as such when it came to his contacts. He got the first one in fine, but the second one burned. He pinched it out of his eye, dripping solution into it and using his pinky to rub it. It still hurt when he pressed it into his eye. It was even starting to turn the whites of his eye red. Tears were falling as though he were sobbing. Gross.

"C'mon- Ah! Damn it!" Nathan tried flipping it, but that hurt worse. "...Fine," he sighed, "whatever." He threw the contact away, figuring that it must be too old now. He pulled the other contact out and tossed it as well. He would just have to wear his glasses for the day until he opened a new set.

The air in the hallway was cold compared to the showers. He hurried back to his room, but not before accidentally making eye contact with Evan, who nodded at him before looking back at the bulletin board. That dude was a snob, and he was always showing Nathan his portfolio, even when he didn't ask to see it. He wasn't ever sure if it was his way of being a pretentious ass, or being nice. Apparently not many had the honor of seeing Evan's "glorious" portfolio, but Nathan didn't see the big appeal; Evan's photos were cold.

Nathan didn't slow down or give any indication of wanting to chat. He was pretty sure Evan got the hint.

He kicked his dirty clothes to the corner of his room and dug around in the closet for his burgundy sweater. He pulled it over his head, grunting when his glasses got caught and nearly fell off. He adjusted the clothing, making sure the collar of his button-down popped out.

Just as he began looking his shoes, his phone buzzed.

 **Max:** _I'm Two Whales and there is this guy wearing full on spandex  
It's pretty hot XD  
_

He snorted, typing a reply.

 **Nathan:** _only u would think so  
doesnt he know its winter  
_

 **Max:** _Not everyone is as sensitive to the cold as you ;)  
I'll send you a pic._

Oh God. Nathan wasn't sure if that's something he wanted to see. He flopped down onto his bed, wrapping the comforter around himself.

 **Nathan:** _plz tell me ur not gonna go into  
creeper mode and take a pic_

 **Max:** _Too late. ;)  
 **[see attachment]**_

Nathan gave into curiosity.

Sure enough, there was an older man sitting on one of the stools at Two Whales wearing a bright green spandex suit. It wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it would be, but he was still disturbed that someone would go out looking like that when it was snowing and freezing outside.

 **Nathan:** _creep_

 **Max:** _Me or the guy? :)_ _I'm almost finished here._  
 _Do you want me to bring you back something?_

Nathan frowned. Max was always trying to get him to eat, but today he wasn't having any of it. Just the thought of food made his stomach churn.

 **Nathan:** _nah im good_

 **Max:** _Are you sure?_

 **Nathan:** _positive._ _I g2g.  
big test to prepare for today._

That he did. In fact, he should've been looking over his unfinished study guide instead of talking to Max. Sure, it was only a little after 9:00 and classes didn't start until 10:30 for him, but he knew the time would go fast. It always does.

 **Max:** _Are you gonna be in your dorm?_

 **Nathan:** _where else would i go?_

Seriously. Nathan only left his room when he had class or it was warm outside. Or if Max dragged him out by his ear to do something "fun."

 **Max:** _I'll stop by in a little bit._  
 _I can try and help you study. :D_

 **Nathan:** _its chemistry_

When she didn't answer right away, Nathan chuckled. Leaving his bed, he fingered through the study guide at his desk. Flashes of his annoyance and frustration came rushing back to him when he saw his sloppy handwriting and the tears he made in on the edges of the paper.

His phone buzzed beside him.

 **Max:** _Two heads are better than one!_  
 _I'm on the bus. Be there soon!_

Oh, sure. As much as he enjoyed Max's company, there was no way in hell that she was going to be able to help him with this.

* * *

A muscle twitched involuntarily at the corner of his right eye, his mouth formed a rigid grimace. With arms folded tightly across his chest, he tapped his foot furiously and all the while stared out of the window. He had been sitting there for over half an hour and he only managed to figure out two of the unanswered problems. Hell, the first one he wasn't even sure how he did it.

Dropping his pencil, he leaned back far in his chair as he ran his hands through his hair. He wondered if he was already beginning to get grays. It sure felt like it. Hell, his hair might even be falling out! He wasn't sure if he could pull off the bald look; he wasn't exactly Vin Diesel or Bruce Willis.

He laughed at himself. He was completely unprepared for this test that could make or break his sanity, and here he was worrying about going bald.

Nice, Nathan.

He closed his textbook and notebook.

Screw it.

He had flipped through his notes hundreds of times but didn't feel any more confident. Granted, his negative attitude probably wasn't helping, but what the hell ever. Nathan stood from his desk, study guide in hand, and grabbed his bag. He shoved the guide in, deciding that maybe he could talk to Ms. Grant before class and see if she would possibly give him an extension (which was unlikely. C'mon, it's Ms. Grant we're talking about here) or help him figure out some of the problems.

Maybe.

He'd see how he felt when he got to class, and if she wasn't busy.

Three knocked rapped on his door, and cheerful, muffled voice said, "Nathan? It's Max!"

Hm. For a while, he thought she wasn't coming.

Answering the door, he was greeted with a dreadful sight. No, not Max herself, but rather what was in her hand. A brown paper bag with grease stains and the Two Whales logo in one gloved hand and a large white styrofoam cup in the other. He had to hold back his sigh and force a smile, keeping his eyes off the offending bag.

"Hey!" Her freckled cheeks were flushed a lovely rose color, and Nathan could feel the cold that still lingered around her small figure, which was hidden by her heavy brown coat. She must have just come in from the icy death known as winter. She held up the bag and cup. "I know you said you didn't want anything but," she shrugged sheepishly, "then I thought that you shouldn't go to your test on an empty stomach. It'll help you think!" She offered him the bag and the cup. Oh, please don't be coffee.

"Thanks," he grinned, stepping aside to let her in. She made herself comfortable on his bed, setting her bag aside, kicking her boots off and sitting cross-legged.

He set the bag and cup on his desk before grabbing his wallet.

"Don't you dare," Max frowned. "My treat."

Nathan pulled out a twenty dollar bill. "This enough?" he asked, ignoring her previous statement.

Max rolled her eyes. "I don't want your money, Nathan. I want you to eat your breakfast."

Nathan tucked the bill in his pocket. He picked up the cup, popping off the lid and taking a sniff. It wasn't coffee, thank goodness. Instead, it was sweet tea. His hands spread like pale starfish around the styrofoam cup. Even though his room was warm, his hands were cold, cracking from the dry and icy weather, resisting the warmth that struggled to seep into them. He took a tiny sip of the tea. It burned his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

Max was studying him, her head cocked to the side with a concerned expression. He could tell that she wanted to say something.

"Tea's good," he told her.

"Try the omelet. It's bacon."

"Later," he brushed it off. He took another small sip of tea, this one slightly less painful.

"It'll be cold." Max bit her lip, shifting on the bed. "Are you okay...? I mean, you look tired."

"Probably because I am," Nathan sighed, brushing his bangs back from his forehead. "Stayed up all night studying for that damn test."

"Did you take your, uh, pill?"

"7:00 on the dot."

"Is there anything I can help you with?" she asked eagerly. "I could help you work out some problems."

Nathan scoffed. "Last time I checked, Chemistry wasn't your greatest subject."

"I have most of the periodic table memorized."

"Great, that helps me _so_ much."

"It can't hurt to try."

"Yes, it can," Nathan sat beside her, "No offense, but I don't think you can help on this one, Max. Thanks anyway."

Max sighed. She reached out and placed her hand on the back of his shoulder. "You'll do fine on the test. You're a smart guy," she encouraged him.

He thought about disagreeing with her, but he didn't have the energy to argue. He needed to keep his head up until it was time to meet his fate. He didn't want to might the time with Max unpleasant, and he didn't want her to worry. She was one of the very few (and by very few, he meant pretty much the only one) people he would consider a friend.

She reached into the pocket of her jeans. "Oh, I took another picture of the spandex guy."

While she was distracted looking through her phone, Nathan slipped the ten dollars into her bag. He hated when she would bring him food. He felt bad about her buying something for him that he would just end up throwing away later. With stress in his stomach and his head buzzing with worrisome possibilities about the test, there was no way on Earth he'd swallow a bite, let alone a whole omelet. Even if it was bacon.

Max showed him the picture. Yep, exactly what he expected. Some middle aged dude walking around in a green spandex suit. Disturbing.

"Adding that one to your portfolio?" Nathan asked her.

"No," she blushed, "can you imagine Mr. Jefferson seeing this? He'd lose all faith in me."

"Or he'd enjoy it."

"Don't be gross."

"What? I didn't say anything."

"Yeah, but the implications were there."

"Sure they were."

Max elbowed him, shooting him a playful glare. She faced her body towards him, smiling brightly at him. "Hey, Chloe and I are having a movie night this weekend. You should come! Kate and Alyssa will be there, too."

Nathan wrinkled his nose. "Sorry, I'm busy."

"With...?"

"Things."

Max let an exaggerated sigh. "Things? Would the things include holding up in your room and hiding away from the world?"

Nathan frowned. "No, they include trying to explain to my father why I failed my test."

"You're not going to fail."

"At this rate-"

"Nathan!" Max slapped her hand on his knee. "Stop it!"

"Make me," Nathan challenged. He shooed her hand away so that he could stand. He found his socks and shoes, sitting in his desk chair and slipping them on. "Just drop it, Max."

"No."

She could be so damn stubborn when she wanted to be. And nosy, don't forget nosy. Stubborn and nosy little Maxine Caulfield.

"How about this," she grinned, "after class ends, we'll do something fun."

"What's your definition of 'fun?'"

"Watching Supernatural on the big screen." Max motioned up towards the projector mounted on his ceiling.

Well, that was tempting. He and Max had just finished season three last week and it left them devastated and eager to start season four. Just another thing for him to stress about, but it was a good kind of stress... if that made any sense.

Nathan rubbed at his temple, reluctantly nodding. "Supernatural it is," Nathan grinned at her before becoming serious, "but no Chloe."

"No Chloe?"

"I don't want her in my room. She touches stuff, remember?" Nathan stood from his bed, reached for his jacket off the couch. He heard Max giggle from behind him.

"What do you have against her? I'll make sure she doesn't touch your stuff."

Nathan gave her a look. "She rubs me the wrong way."

"She has that effect on people."

"She can't come."

Max gave another exaggerated sigh, falling back onto the bed. "Fine. I wasn't going to invite her anyway, you know."

"Sure you weren't." He didn't believe her. If Max didn't invite her, then Chloe would invite herself. The last time Chloe came over with Max all she did was argue with Nathan about this and that. She liked to pick fights and Nathan couldn't help but take the bait. But, c'mon. When someone goes and insults his Prescott's (Yes, haha, it's funny because they're shoes and it's his last name. He got it. Very pun. Much joke.) of course he's going to retaliate. Especially when said shoes were thrown and his lamp was shattered.

No, Chloe was not allowed back. That was final.

"I wasn't," Max stood as well. "Are you leaving?"

"Yeah, I wanna ask Ms. Grant some questions before class starts." Nathan zipped up the thick jacket all the way to his neck and reached for his gray scarf. He could see that it was starting to lightly snow. He did his best to not express his disgust.

"Your food-"

"I'll eat it when I get back. Reheat it, or whatever," he lied. He made sure to grab his tea and camera for Jefferson's class after wrapping his scarf around his neck.

Max didn't believe him, he was sure, but didn't say anything. Max slipped her boots back on and walked with him to the door, both with their school bags in hand.

"I'll walk with you," she smirked, "make sure you don't get stuck in the snow or something."

"Shut up."

* * *

Just as he expected, it was freezing. There was no sunshine. All warmth was blocked by the thick, fluffy clouds that lingered in the sky.

Nathan made sure to pick up his feet as he walked and to avoid any deep snow. He had to reach out and grab Max twice after almost slipping on the icy sidewalk. Maybe he should consider getting some snow boots.

He pulled his hood up, tightening it around his red tipped ears. This was ridiculous. In his honest opinion, classes should've been canceled because of this abominable weather.

As they reached the from of the school, a group of students bundled in heavy coats and boots were gathered around the Jeremiah Blackwell statue placed in the a ring of iced over water. Most had their cell phones out and were whispering. Before Nathan could even question why these people weren't hurrying inside the building, Max's amused voice cut him off.

"Oh, I totally forgot!" Max grabbed his sleeve. "C'mon." She pulled on his jacket, walking in the direction of the statue. Nathan jerked back.

"How about no. I'm going inside."

Max kept her grip firm, ignoring his protest and dragging him along away. "I wanted to get a shot of this on my way to see you, but I didn't want your food to get cold," she explained.

Max finally let him go when they reached the crowd. She pulled her instant camera out and aimed it at the statue, crouching and moving to get the perfect angle.

The once fully bronzed statue was now covered in what Nathan assumed was paint. What was impressive about it though was the detail. Flesh was painted on to seem realistic, from the contour of the cheeks to the dark beard on his chin. Hair was painted several shades of blonde. Nathan could see the eyes were painted a light shade of green surrounded by the shadows of purple placed beneath. His clothing colored dark, each crease defined and perfectly shaded.

While Nathan was surprisingly impressed by the detail, it was the splatter of red paint that threw him off. He was sure it was paint, anyway, but it sure did look like blood. Frighteningly, so.

Who in their right mind would do this?

Who would stand out in the cold and be so precise with these details only to ruin it with splatters of "blood?" Who thought, "You know what I want to do? I want to go out and give Jeremiah a nice, bloody makeover. Yep, that's how I want to spend my time!"

His gaze wandered down to the feet of the statue, only to see that they were being blocked by a giant poster attached and secured by what looked to be wire.

 _The boundaries which divide Life  
from Death are at best shadowy and vague.  
Who shall say where the one ends,  
and where the other begins?_

The script was, for a lack of better term, beautiful. Obviously traced, but beautiful nonetheless. Nathan wasn't sure if it was the words or the sudden gust of sharp wind that made him shiver.

"Oh my," a timid voice whispered behind him. Nathan turned to see Samuel, bucket and rag in hand. He was studying the remodeled statue. Nathan turned to wave at him.

"Hey Samuel."

"Hello, young Nathan."

Nathan motioned to Jeremiah. "Are you the one who has to clean this up?"

Samuel sighed. "Samuel hates to wash off such a perception, but has no choice."

Perception? Guess you could call it that.

Students were starting to leave and head back to the main building. Max was still trying to get the perfect shot.

"Do you know who did it?" asked Nathan.

Samuel shook his head, approaching the poster. "Talented and tortured, whoever he is." Samuel set the bucket down. "The cats wandered here not long ago. Samuel couldn't understand much of their murmurs."

Nathan spotted a flash out the corner of his eye. Max wore a triumph smile as she pulled the Polaroid photo from the instant camera, watching it develop. She showed it to him. It was a nice shot. A nice angle with a balance of light. Not too much going on in the background to distract from the statue. Of course, Jeremiah himself looked as though he had slaughtered an entire town.

Nathan shivered. "Great, can we go-"

 _"Attention students."_ The intercom could be heard emitting from the school. It was Principal Wells. _"Warren Graham, report to the main office **immediately.** Warren Graham to the main office. **Immediately.** "_

Hm. Nathan never heard Wells sound so harsh, especially over the intercom. Regardless, he didn't give it a second thought.

Nathan didn't wait for a reply from Max. He started dragging his feet through the snow towards the building, cursing the wetness that was seeping into his socks. Oh, it was going to be so warm inside and he could think clearly once again and it was going to be so great. He just had to get there.

"Hey, wait! Don't you want to get a shot?" Max called after him, cautiously catching up with him.

"No," he answered simply.

"Why? Seems like your kind of thing."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"You know... dark?"

Nathan didn't reply.

* * *

His legs bounced and his heels clicked rather noisily against the tile floor. His nails were already bitten down to the point of becoming painful. He nibbled at their frayed, form edges like a famished mouse as he continued to glance up at Ms. Grant. She was looking through a stack of papers, digging around in one of her binders and mumbling to herself. He kept trying to will himself to just get up and go over to her, but his feet refused to cooperate. Every time he told himself that he needed to walk over there and ask for help his stomach would protest by doing somersaults.

Okay, on the count of three, he would stand up.

One...

Two...

...Three.

He didn't budge.

He cursed himself for being so pathetic. It's not like Ms. Grant was going to snarl at him for asking for help. If anything, she would probably smile at him and gladly assist him.

He looked over the crinkled study guide once again. He should have it memorized by now, right?

Maybe if he sent desperate vibes over to Ms. Grant she'd come to him. Or if he grunted and groaned as if he were in pain that she'd speak to him and he'd be able to say something like, "I just don't understand number forty-eight," or "Do you think you could help me with problem eighty?" And he'd say it with a smooth normal voice, not some croak that shook and let her see right through him.

Of course, all his thoughts and worries only wasted his time. The bell rang for class to start. He had missed his chance. He did a quick look through of the guide one more time before Ms. Grant stood with a stack of tests in her hand. She asked one of the girls to pass out the tests.

The test laid there in front of him. He felt his insides grow warm in an unpleasant way and his stomach, though empty, writhed as if struggling with a rich meal. He scribbled his name up at the top, as well as the date and the class. Ms. Grant explained what they were to do when they finished, and reminded them that there would be no talking. Eyes on your own paper, cheaters would instantly fail, yada yada.

He took a deep breath, holding it, letting it out slowly. He did that a few more times until his pulse slowed. He thought back on what Max said, about how he was smart and that he was going to do fine. He pushed any thought of his father away (that would only cause him to have a panic attack in class) (hey... that could be a great way to get out of this- wait, no! Dumbass) and enjoyed the silence that filled the classroom.

The test lay flat on the desk in front of him. He felt his insides grow warm in an unpleasant way and his stomach, though empty, writhed as if struggling with a rich meal.

His gazed darted down to the first question.

 _1\. The attractions between atoms within a molecule of NH3 are best characterized as:_

 _A. hydrogen bonds_  
 _B. ionic bonds_  
 _C. polar covalent bonds_  
 _D. London (dispersion) forces_  
 _E. ion-dipole forces_

...Oh, for the love of-

* * *

Nathan felt as though he had aged a decade in the past sixty-five minutes.

He was the second to last person to finish his test. It wasn't nearly as bad as he had anticipated, but it wasn't exactly easy either. Class ended shortly after that last test was handed in. The bell rang and all the students gather their things and left, except Nathan. He remained there in his seat, nervously watching Ms. Grant grade the tests. He knew that she wouldn't mind him staying in after the bell since that's what he did a lot of days, especially in the winter. The halls were chilly and Ms. Grant was one of the few teachers smart enough to work the thermostat. He didn't even need his jacket or scarf.

He didn't hurry to put his things away. Instead, he pulled out his phone and was greeted by a text from Max.

 **Max:** _/Rob Schneider voice/ YOU CAN DO IT! :D_  
 **[see attachment]**

Nathan couldn't force the smile away as he read her message. She had sent him a selfie (of course) with her giving him a thumbs up and a wide grin.

Seeing her face made him incredibly glad that he had befriended her when she moved here. She was just a weird as he was, and they had a lot in common. She also didn't give a shit about his name or his money, which was rare. He was sick of people trying to befriend him so that he'd pay for their beer and weed and whatever the hell else they wanted. He didn't want anything to do with the Vortex Club. He didn't care if his father funded it and that he was _technically_ a part of it. That wasn't Nathan's scene.

That's the reason he and Victoria Chase weren't friends anymore.

Heh, it's been a long time since he thought about her. They were best friends at one time before the Vortex Club, before Blackwell Academy. They grew apart after Nathan wanted nothing to do with the Vortex. They did have one class together, but Nathan hardly ever said a word to her, or even paid her a glance. Not that she didn't try and talk to him from time to time. It was kind of sweet that she still worried about him and...

Nathan bit his lip harshly. He shouldn't be thinking about her right now.

He gathered up his things, shoving them in his bag. He stood from his stool and took a deep breath. Just go over there and ask to see his grade. That's all. It wasn't a difficult task. Ms. Grant had to have his paper graded by now, right? He rolled his shoulders. On shaky, nervous legs he made his way towards her desk. She noticed him, smiling warmly at him

"Ah, Nathan, how are you?" she greeted. Nathan shrugged.

"Fine," he lied, terribly.

Her brows furrowed slightly. "You don't look fine."

Gee, was it _that_ obvious? "I, uh..." Nathan swallowed thickly, mouth becoming dry. He rubbed the back of his neck, lightly wincing at how cold his fingers were. "I wanted to see my score on the test."

"Oh? You can't wait until they're all posted tomorrow?" she asked, setting aside her pen and papers.

So that he can make himself sick tonight? Hell no. "I'd rather not."

She thought on it for a moment before turning to the pile. She lips twitched up. She eyed knowingly. "Alright," she said. She flipped through the stack to find his name. She pulled his test out, handing it to him with a proud smile.

His heart sank to the deepest pit of his stomach.

B.

No...

 _ **B.**_

The letter mocked him. He could practically hear it laughing.

"I'm very impressed. You did _much_ better than last time," Ms. Grant beamed.

She... was proud?

"I saw you studying the guide. I am so glad that you're taking this class seriously."

Nathan dropped the test on the desk to run both hands through his dark blonde hair a quick stride, holding the locks back as he fixed a devastated stare on Ms. Grant that could have frozen the Pacific. She was startled by the sudden change, eyes widening slightly.

"Ms. Grant," Nathan cleared his throat, "I... I can't... Is there any way that I can raise it? My grade? Like i-is there some sort of extra credit or can I just, like, I dunno, take it again or-"

"Woah, woah, Nathan," Ms. Grant stood, raising a hand to silence him. "What's the matter? You did well."

"No," Nathan spat, "I didn't. I need an _A_ , Ms. Grant. An **A**! My father-"

"Will be proud," she cut him off.

What did she just say...?

She continued, "Look, I know he wasn't happy with your last score," she lowered her voice, "and I know you know he called to make me change it, even though I didn't. But, you worked hard-"

"And it obviously wasn't good enough!" Nathan exclaimed, slamming his hand on the corner of her desk. "I did not stay up all night for a stupid B, okay!"

"I don't like your attitude, Mr. Prescott," Ms. Grant snapped back, eyeing his hand. "Now, I'm sorry but you earned a B. That's that."

Nathan's hands balled up into fists, bitten nails digging into his palms. He could feel his stomach boiling, his blood rushing. His mouth opened before thinking, "You don't get it! My father will have my head if I don't get an A!"

"And I'll probably get a call, as well."

"Oh boohoo, you're gonna get a _call_!" Nathan threw his hands up, frustration and rage getting the best of him, turning away from Ms. Grant. "There are worse things than a God damn call!"

"You watch your language!"

"Just let me retake the test! I'll do better on it, I swear!"

"No, Nathan!"

"Damn it, Ms. Grant! You don't understand! I need to get an A! I-I'll do anything!"

"I think it's time you left-"

"Argh!"

Nathan grabbed the large stack of tests, using all his might to throw them at the wall, right next to the window. Once the papers left his fingers, he huffed, breathing heavily. They cascaded through the heavy air much like the snowfall outside.

The squeak of Ms. Grant's chair is what flipped the switch in his brain. Realization crushed his hurried heart.

Regret washed over him like the long slow waves on a shallow beach as he watched the papers scatter and soar through the air. The only sounds he heard was that drumming of his rapid heart and his blood rushing in his ears.

He did not just do that.

No, no...

Oh, God no. Please no.

Nathan didn't dare look at Ms. Grant. Her mouth was still open from her gasp, eyes wide in shock as she stood there looking over the side of her desk. She was just in as much disbelief as he was.

There's that moment between action and consequence, eternal and fleeting, and Nathan was stuck in it.

Perhaps if he got down on his knees and kissed her feet, then she would forget that ever happened and maybe even let him keep his grade.

Nathan felt the heat rising to his cheeks. He was mortified at what he had just done, frozen. When he peeked over at her, Ms. Grant had her eyes shut and she was mumbling to himself. She was probably trying to keep herself from kicking his stupid ass out of the classroom and failing him. Oh please, anything but that...

Nathan's mouth moved, but no noise escaped.

Ms. Grant took a deep breath. In a calm tone that seemed underlined with annoyance, she spoke, "Mr. Prescott..."

The way she said his name made him ill.

"I will be seeing you after classes have ended for the day."

"I-I-" Nathan found his voice, "I'm... I'm so sor-"

"I expect to see you in your seat at four o'clock sharp. We will discuss this later. For now, pick up every single piece of paper and then please _leave_."

* * *

It seemed unfair that no matter how much he would strive to be the person his conscience wanted him to be, the person _he_ wanted to be, he screwed it up. He did it to himself, and now that moment with Ms. Grant would be relieved through his memory for the rest of his life.

It seemed unreal. How could he do something like that? How could he lose his temper that quick? Just when he thought that he finally had a hold on it, that he could calm himself down before it took over...

It was probably the panic, the fear, Nathan concluded. When he saw the big red B slapped on his test, the image of the back of his father's hand flashed before his eyes and he would do anything to get away from it. Even if that meant yelling at a good woman who was sincerely proud of his improvement. He could only hope that she would find it in her heart to not tell his father. If she did, it would just be a hand he would need to fear.

With his head held low, Nathan opened his locker to grab his jacket and scarf. Class was going to start soon, but he wasn't going. He had a 98% in English, he could miss a day. She was a pushover and too nice for her own good. Poor thing would understand. Nathan slipped on the jacket and scarf, mentally preparing himself for the walk back to the dorms.

Goosebumps instantly rose along his neck and cheeks when he stepped outside. The bell for classes rang, but Nathan couldn't care less. All he could think about was the feeling of Ms. Grant's look of disappointment.

"Listen here you little-"

"Little _what_? Huh? Say it."

Nathan spotted Madsen over by the Jeremiah statue. He wasn't alone. One of the students was standing with him, his back towards Nathan. He didn't recognize him or his voice.

"You have absolutely _no_ respect for this school and I will personally see to it that you are punished for what you did!" Madsen jabbed his finger into the boy's shoulder, tone sharp and harsh.

"What I did? Oh, what exactly did I do, _sir_?" The boy mocked, poking Madsen back.

Even from where Nathan was slowly trudging through the snow, he could see Madsen's face flushing with anger. He motioned to the statue. "You defaced public property-"

"You have no proof that I did anything." The boy turned as if to walk away. "Get out of my face."

"You just earned yourself a one-way ticket to see Principal Wells-" Madsen exclaimed, charging after the boy.

He turned back to Madsen, stopping and chuckling. "Oh, I'm _quaking_ in my boots."

"Now!"

The boy didn't move. Madsen reached out to grab his arm, but he instantly jerked away. "Don't fucking touch me, asshole!" he shouted loud enough for other students wandering around to stop and pay them a glance. Madsen glared down at him, lip curling slightly. Nathan shook his head. He was too exhausted and humiliated and cold to care about the showdown that was happening. He walked off towards the dorm, ignoring the argument.

* * *

Nathan came out of his room to attend his last class of the day: Jefferson's photography class. Even when he felt at his worst, that class made him feel better. Jefferson was a great teacher and an even better photographer. Nathan always enjoyed his work, and he couldn't believe it when his father told him that he had basically hired Mark Jefferson to come teach at Blackwell. Apparently his father knew Jefferson personally and he was more than happy to come back to his hometown.

When he got to class, Max had been there to greet him at their usual table. He spotted Victoria chatting up Jefferson, but paid them no attention. She was always kissing his ass.

He canceled the Supernatural marathon with Max. She was disappointed, of course, demanding to know the reason. Nathan didn't tell her what happened even after she asked him twice about what was wrong, but he was sure that she would find out anyway. Things had a way of going around when it involved Nathan Prescott, plus Max was nosy. If he didn't tell her, someone else would.

She asked him about the test. He didn't even answer her. He just put his head down to rest against the table and waited for class to start. Max got the message.

Class was a blur. Jefferson did his usual thing, walking around the room and lecturing. Victoria made a fool of herself by playing teachers pet only to be put in her place after Jefferson praised Max and used one of her photos as an example for the lesson. It was amusing to watch Max light up at the acknowledgment and become flustered at the attention.

Class ended all too soon. Nathan dreaded having to go seem Ms. Grant. After he picked up all her papers, she basically told him he had detention. Nathan didn't know that school still did detention. He wondered if it was the kind of detention where he had to work on homework for an hour, or if he was going to be put to work cleaning equipment, or if he was just to stare into space until his brain melted and oozed out his ear. Knowing Ms. Grant, it probably wasn't going to be the last one.

"Hey, where'd you go?" Max's soft voice broke his thoughts. She nudged his shoulder. She turned to look at her as she rubbed his back. He found it soothing.

"I'm right here."

"You sure?"

Nathan scooted back, rising from his seat. "Probably," he mumbled.

"Are you sure you want to cancel tonight?"

"Yeah, something came up," Nathan sighed.

Max's brows furrowed with worry. "Are you... going home?"

"No," he quickly replied. "No, I just have to do something." He secured his back on his shoulder, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Don't ask me again." That came out much harsher than he wanted it to.

Max nodded slowly, obviously hurt by his tone. "Okay... I'll see you later," she said.

Nathan watched her leave, feeling guilty for the second time today. Why did he have to be like that? Max was his friend and she was just worried, but no, Nathan just had to be a jerk. What was wrong with him? He deserved this detention and humiliation.

"Nathan, do you have a minute?" Jefferson's voice stopped Nathan right as he was about to leave the classroom.

"Uh, sure." Nathan approached Jefferson at his desk. Jefferson stood tall, almost towering over Nathan. Then again, maybe if he didn't slouch then he'd be less intimidated by the man in front of him.

Jefferson eyed him up and down, cocking his head as if trying to find the right words. "I heard about what happened with Ms. Grant today," he frowned, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Damn. Did Ms. Grant go around telling everyone about what happened? "Not even a little," he replied.

Jefferson chuckled, nodding understandingly. "Alright, fair enough. I won't force you." He placed a hand on his hip, resting the other on the flat of his desk. "You just seemed out of it today and I wanted to make sure you're alright. Michelle said that she never saw you like that before and was more worried than angry."

Ah, so she did go around telling everyone. Nice.

Nathan shrugged, looking down at his feet and picking at his cuticles. "I have detention."

"I heard. Don't worry, she's not going to call home about this." Jefferson smiled, adding, "I won't tell, either."

Nathan wasn't sure if he should say thank you. He just nodded, wondering if it was okay to go now. He didn't want to be late.

"Nathan, I could tell you that things will get better and that there are bright days ahead, blah blah blah," Jefferson gave a light-hearted chuckle. "But, I'm not going to because that's too easy. You need to use these harder days to better yourself." Nathan felt a heavy hand placed on his shoulder. "You're a bright person, Nathan. I can see it in your eyes and the way you work that camera. Just know that I am here for you if you ever need anything. It doesn't even have to be about photography. I'd be glad to help."

Nathan's face became hot, heart fluttering at the kind words. He tore his gaze from Jefferson's, not wanting the older man to see just how his words affected him. Adjusting his glasses, he mumbled, "Thanks, Mr. Jefferson. I, uh, have to go now."

Jefferson removed his hand, crossing his arms. "It won't be that bad. Ms. Grant won't be too hard on you. Have a good day, Nathan."

"You too..."

Nathan left the classroom, letting out a sigh of relief.

Jefferson had no idea just how much better he had made Nathan feel. He only wished that his father would be that kind about these sort of things...

* * *

Ms. Grant hadn't been in the classroom when Nathan arrived. In fact, it had been empty. In his seat, he watched the clock patiently.

When Ms. Grant did show up, in was with an agitated huff. She hadn't even noticed Nathan at first, but when she did her own gaze went up to the clock. She was late.

"Nathan, glad you could make it."

Like he had a choice.

Nathan rubbed at his temple, closing his eyes as he began, "Ms. Grant, I just want to say that I am so sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to flip out like that..."

Ms. Grant moved from her desk and approached Nathan, staring down at him. "I understand that you are under a lot of pressure, Nathan. I've met your father and I know all about your family."

Oh, sure you do.

She didn't know anything. Even if she did, she wouldn't be able to comprehend the things that went down in that household.

"But, with that said, that was not acceptable behavior and I do not ever want to see you act like that in my classroom again, because I can guarantee that you will be booted out of my class so fast that you won't even know what hit you. Do you understand?"

That wouldn't be a smart move on her part. Perhaps she's the one who doesn't understand. Regardless, he answered, "Yes."

"Good, I'm glad we're on the same page. I accept your apology and hope that we can move past this. Now," she rolled her shoulders as if trying to work out any tension, "for the next hour you are free to work on whatever you please. Just be quiet. And..." she trailed off, "...another student will be joining us."

Did she seem apologetic...?

Pulling out his notebooks and pencil case, Nathan got to work. As he worked, he noticed Ms. Grant continually look at the door. He assumed that she was waiting for the other student to show up.

He pulled his phone out, making sure that Ms. Grant wasn't watching. Not that she would take it. The last time she took his phone, she had a nice long talk with his father, as ridiculous as it sounds. After that incident happened, Nathan could pull his phone out in any class and the teacher wouldn't say anything. He took advantage of it whenever class was boring or getting too easy.

Pulling up Max's name, his thumbs hovered over the screen as he contemplated what to say.

 **Nathan:** _Max sorry about what i said_  
 _i didnt mean it :( its been a crappy day_  
 _raincheck on supernatural?_

Seconds later, Max replied.

 **Max:** _It's okay. :)_  
 _I heard about what happened in Chemistry._  
 _Are you okay?_

Surprise, surprise.

 **Nathan:** _wonderful_  
 _i already counted all the tiles on the ceiling_

 **Max:** _We'll talk soon, k?_  
 _Let me know when you're finished?_

 **Nathan:** _k_

"You're late." Ms. Grant's voice made him jump slightly. For a second, he thought she was talking to him until he followed her gaze to the door. There stood a boy that Nathan didn't recognize.

"Aw, were you waiting for me?" the boy smirked, sauntering over to Ms. Grant. Dressed in a heavy, oversized army jacket and torn jeans, he stood tall and clearly amused with the irritation playing on Ms. Grant's features. Nathan could see the dimples forming in his cheeks from his smug grin, dark eyes crinkling with wry humor. Chunks of curly brown hair poked out from under the gray beanie placed upon his head, damp from seemingly being outside.

"Sit down, Mr. Graham," Ms. Grant sighed.

"There's no need to be so proper," he winked at her, "You know you can call me Warren."

Nathan almost laughed out loud at the look on Ms. Grant's face. The boy, Warren, shrugged when she didn't respond. He strolled over to the table towards the back of the room, plopping down on the stool loudly and groaning as he stretched his arms high above his head. Nathan watched him from the corner of his eye as he shrugged off his army jacket to reveal a plaid button up with an interesting black undershirt featuring what looked to be a skull, but not a human skull. Actually, it looked more like an ape skull with razor sharp teeth and fiery eyes.

"I hope you realize what a mess you've caused for me." Ms. Grant all but downright glared at him as he sat back in his chair, moving to rest his boot covered feet on the table.

Warren looked around before he pointed at himself. "Me?"

"Yes, you." She began stapling some papers as she eyed Warren. "Ruining the Jeremiah statue is only fueling Mr. Madsen's argument to put security cameras up."

"Oh my _God_ ," Warren threw his head back in exasperation, "Listen, I didn't touch your stupid statue. There is no evidence that I did shit and you can't say otherwise. People need to get off my back."

"Warren," she warned.

" _Michelle_ ," he mocked. "I didn't do squat. Pornstache just likes to point fingers without any actual proof. Besides," Warren smirked, "if you ask me, it looks way better this way. It better represents Blackwell, don't'cha think?"

Nathan froze, eyes flickering between the two as he watched silently. What made that guy think that he could talk to her like that?

...Then again, who was he to talk?

The way Ms. Grant bit the inside of her cheek and took a deep breath told Nathan that this wasn't the first time she had dealt with Warren. They seemed to be very familiar with each other.

Ms. Grant gathered a folder with loose sheets of paper, shaking her head and throwing her hands up in the air. "I don't understand you."

"I never said you had to."

She turned from Warren to look at Nathan. "I'm going to run down to make copies. I'll be right back, and I expect both of you to remain in your seats and behave." She sounded exhausted. Nathan wondered if this was an excuse to get away from them for a little bit.

Warren saluted her. "Anything for you, ma'am."

She rolled her eyes, sending Nathan an apologetic look.

Warren was out of his seat the moment she left the room. Nathan tried to focus on his notebook. It was for English. He was trying to think of an idea for his essay on _The_ _Lord of the Flies_. The assignment was to write an epilogue or rewrite the ending. Nathan chose to write an epilogue, but he didn't know if he wanted it to be one of those "Five Years Later" epilogues, or something else.

Warren was wandering around the room, touching things Nathan was sure he wasn't supposed to. He was quietly humming a tune to a song Nathan didn't know as he admired the fish within the small aquarium tank on the other side of the room.

"So, what are you in for?"

It took Nathan a moment to realize that Warren was talking to him. Peering up from his notebook, he saw Warren gazing at him curiously. Nathan didn't know if he should answer or not. Ms. Grant might come back at any moment and Nathan didn't want to get caught talking to this jerk. So, he settled for a shrug and turning back to his blank sheet of paper.

"Hey, I'm talking to you. It's rude to just ignore me."

"You should sit down," Nathan found himself saying.

"Are you gonna make me?" Warren scoffed. "Whatever. Just trying to make small talk, but I guess what everyone says is true. Prescott's too high and mighty to interact with us middle folk."

"That's not- Hey, how do you..." Nathan wasn't sure if he wanted to ask this question.

"Everyone knows you, dumb ass." Warren rolled his eyes. "I'm no exception. I was just curious as to what you did that you couldn't bribe your way out."

"Don't talk to me like that," Nathan snapped.

That amused twinkle was shining in Warren's dark eyes again. "Like what? Calling you out on your shit? Sorry that I'm not kissing your ass like everyone else. I don't give a shit about your name like these Blackwell hicks."

"For someone who doesn't care, you sure are making a big deal out of it," Nathan argued. "And you're the one who talked to me first."

"Wanted to see what you were like before I made my opinion. So far, I'm not impressed."

"I could say the same thing."

Warren narrowed his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching. Nathan had a sense that he was enjoying himself. He should just stop indulging him and go back to work.

A gush of cool wind took the air right from Nathan's lungs. He whipped around in his seat to see that Warren had opened the window, leaning against the frame and digging into his pocket for a pack of smokes.

Was he _insane_? Did he not see the snow and the clouds? Did he not realize that it was _freaking winter_!? Nathan had half a mind to stomp over there and bop him on the head!

Before Nathan could scream in protest, he was stopped by the sight before him. Warren had the cigarette trapped between his pink lips as he brought his lighter up. With a flick of his thumb, an orange warmth was cast across his face for a moment as the cigarette lit. Tucking the lighter into his back pocket, he inhaled deeply, eyes closed and features content. He held his breath to savor the feeling in his lungs. Leaning towards the window, he blew the smoke out slowly, carefully. It twisted and faded beautifully.

His posture, position. The lighting and the contrast of the shadows. The angle in which Nathan was seeing him. His unaware state.

Nathan's fingers twitched.

He wanted a picture.

How appropriate would it be to snap a quick shot of a guy he didn't know and that he just had an argument with? And, what were the odds of said guy breaking his expensive monochrome camera?

But... when was he ever going to get a shot like this again?

"Always take the shot," that's what Jefferson always told him.

He couldn't ask Warren's permission; that would just screw up the entire atmosphere of the image. Warren would be aware, stiffened. His expression would no longer be at peace. Perhaps if he just took it and then ran like hell, he could explain what happened to Ms. Grant...

...and get his sorry ass booted out of her class all for the sake of aesthetic.

Warren took another drag, repeating the motion of releasing his own clouds out the window. How was he not freezing? Nathan was beginning to get chills, and he was on the other side of the room. He just hoped that he could keep his hands still.

Nathan pulled his camera out of his bag quietly. He turned it on, thanking whatever God there was that it didn't make any noise. He was conflicted on whether or not he should keep the flash on. If he kept it, there was no doubt that he was would be caught. If not, then he was at risk of the photo being too dark. Then again, he could always edit the photo.

Not making any sudden movements that could give him away, Nathan aimed the camera at Warren. He moved around cautiously so that he was leaning on his side on the tabletop.

Ugh, and he called Max a creep for taking pictures of people.

Warren was almost finished with the cigarette, taking one last inhale. Nathan waited patiently. When Warren blew the smoke out, he took the photo.

Perfect.

Except he forgot to turn off the flash.

Warren was startled, to say the least, nearly dropping his cigarette. He glared over at Nathan, who was frozen with the camera in hand and a dumb look on his face.

"Did..." Warren pushed away from the window, "... Did you just take a picture of me?"

Nathan's first instinct was to lie, but the clear evidence in his hands was sure to give him away. Was this the part where he needed to defend himself?

Ash was falling onto the tiled floor as Warren took long strides towards him. "I asked you a question," he frowned. Nathan had to crank his neck uncomfortably to peer up at him, unsure of what to do. He did his best to not cough at the smell of smoke, but it burned his nose and throat. It was a strange contrast against the cold air coming in from the window he left open.

"I, uh..."

"Lemme guess, you're one of Jefferson's photo groupies, right?"

"I wouldn't say that, exactly." Nathan looked away, holding the camera tightly in his shivering hands.

Warren kicked the stool. Not hard, but enough to almost make Nathan cry in surprise.

"Well?" Warren motioned towards the camera. "Are you gonna let me see it, or am I gonna have to take it from you?"

Wait, what?

When Nathan caught Warren's eye, he didn't seem angry. In fact, that amused shine was prominent in his eyes once more. He held out his hand that was free of the cigarette. Nathan noticed a thick, black leather wrapped around his wrist. It was kind of... ugly.

Nathan cautiously brought the photo up, continually glancing between Warren and the camera. When he saw the shot, he took a moment to admire it. Damn, it was good. It was even better when all the color was drained and nothing was left but shades of gray.

"Sometime today, dude," Warren reminded him that he was standing there and he was impatient. Nathan stood, keeping his grip on the camera as he turned it around to show Warren the screen. Warren reached out and placed a hand over Nathans, raising it up so he could get a better look at the photo. It left Nathan stunned when Warren's hand wasn't cold, but instead incredibly warm against his chilled fingers. Nathan kept his eyes focused on his shoes while he waited for Warren to make whatever snide comment or-

"Jesus, Prescott," Warren chuckled, "perhaps you do have taste. This is pretty damn good for what it is."

Nathan's gaze flew up to meet Warren's. His dimples were forming as he let go of the camera, scratching behind his ear as he shot Nathan an approving look.

He liked it? Wait, wasn't he upset before? Or was Nathan just making assumptions? Did he just pick a fight with him not even two minutes ago? And he wasn't going to make fun of him or anything? Why doesn't this guy make any sense?

"You're also a creepy sonofabitch."

There it is.

Nathan glared at him, causing Warren to burst into a loud laugh.

"Aw, look at you! Do I have you all flustered?" Warren's finger pressed Nathan's glasses up. Nathan swatted his hand away.

"Back off."

"Oh, I think-" Warren paused, and before Nathan could blink, he was back by the window, tossing the cigarette outside and leaning out casually.

"Don't think I didn't see that!" Ms. Grant exclaimed. Nathan plopped down on his seat quickly. When did she get here?

"See what?" Warren asked.

"You know what." She slammed the heavy folder onto her desk before rushing over to Warren. "You're killing yourself with those things, and I will not tolerate you doing it in my classroom."

"Again, I have no idea what you're talking about, ma'am."

"Don't play dumb, Warren. You're better than that."

"Oh, am I, now?" Warren rolled his head, reaching up and shutting the window (thank the heavens above!) before turning to face Ms. Grant again.

The grimace in her face was deep. "I spoke with Mr. Madsen and Principal Wells. They want a word with you once your hour is up."

"I don't know," Warren pulled his phone from his back pocket, "I'm pretty busy. Ah, yep, see? I'm booked for today. They'll need to make an appointmen-"

"Warren!"

"What?"

Ms. Grant looked like she was ready to pull her hair out. "Can you just sit your ass down and be quiet? I don't want to hear another peep from you or else I will personally drag you by your ear to see Wells."

Warren didn't seem fazed by the outburst. He merely grinned, saluting her and walking over to Nathan's table, sitting down on the stool beside him. He winked at Nathan before folding his arms and resting his head.

For the rest of the hour, Nathan felt twitchy under Warren's stare as he worked. Ms. Grant looked like she was done with the day. Nathan felt for her; she obviously has a tough day. It only served to make him feel even worse about his outburst earlier. He made a mental note to apologize again.

* * *

Ms. Grant kicked them out the second the hour was over.

"Have a lovely day, Ms. Grant," Warren waved at her after slipping his jacket back on. She didn't even pay him a glance. Nathan thought about saying something, but figured that she wanted to be left alone after having to deal with them.

Nathan pulled up Max's name on his phone.

 **Nathan:** _finished_  
 _it was terrible but i have som_

Nathan was jerked back when a hand grasped the back of his sweater. He stumbled backward, nearly dropping his phone mid text, landing against a chest. Warren's snicker reached his ears, filling Nathan with dread. What did he want now? Warren moved around him like he was stalking a prey or something. At least, that's the best way Nathan could describe it.

Nathan could smell the smoke stuck to Warren's clothes, along with something else. This was way too close for comfort.

Warren glanced down at him, the corners of his lips fighting a smile, his eyebrows slightly raised. Nathan looked away before that mischievous look of his spread.

"Cold?" he snickered.

Nathan did his best to ignore him, but he was blocking his way. When he tried to push past him, Warren's hand pressed flat against his chest, keeping Nathan in place.

His dark eyes wandered over Nathan's face before he reached out to pinch the top of his ear. Nathan's eyes widened as a sharp pain shot through his tender ear. He jerked away, covering the side of his head and glaring at the taller boy. "What the hell!?"

He didn't answer. Before Nathan could say anything else, both of Warren's hands were swift in taking off his gray beanie and tugging it onto Nathan's head. He made sure each side covered Nathan's cold, red ears. He blinked rapidly up at Warren, eyes wide with confusion and his face flushing from the sudden contact.

Without his beanie on, Warren's hair was wild with curls covering his forehead and ears, tangled and thick. It added a more boyish charm to his face.

Warren leaned back to admire his work. "Better?" he asked.

Nathan didn't reply, only stared. His heart raced, stomach fluttered. Warren leaned forward slightly. Panic instantly shot through his veins, appearing obvious on his face.

In his arrogant triumph, Warren smirked - just a small pouting of the lips; a narrowing of dark eyes and a tilting of the head. It was so subtle, it was even more infuriating for Nathan who caught a glimpse of it. Warren patted Nathan on the head before turning on his heel and strolling down the hall. All Nathan could do was stare after him. He reached up to touch the beanie, admitting that it was indeed incredibly warm. It also smelt lightly of nice cologne and smoke.

Nathan came to a conclusion as Warren's figure disappeared through a set of doors:

That guy's a dick.

* * *

 **This became _way_ longer than I had anticipated.  
**

 **Oopsie doodle.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **xLazyxWriterx**


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